Clark’s been off all night, he’s quieter than usual, but still there. Sticking close, never drifting far, like some invisible string keeps tugging him back to your side.

You catch him staring more than once, with that soft, unsure look in his eyes like he’s thinking something, over and over, but can’t quite say it.

“Clark?” you ask softly, nudging his arm.

“Yeah?” his head snaps toward you, a little too fast.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah” he says too quickly but he doesn’t move. His gaze dips for a bit before he forces his eyes back to yours. The way his breath hitches.

“Clark…?” your voice is quieter this time.

“Yeah?” his voice is soft.

“Spill the beans.”

His eyes flicker to your lips again, this time longer, it’s lingering, like he’s begging you to notice.

“I…” his voice falters, barely above a whisper. “I keep… thinking about it.”

“About what?”

His fingers twitch again, brushing against yours now. His breath falters.

“About kissing you.. how badly I want it…” he says quietly.

It’s not a confession, not exactly. More like… a quiet admission, like the words just slipped out before he could stop them.

And still he doesn’t move. He just stays, right there, watching you like he’s waiting for something, for a sign, a breath, anything at all because he’s too scared to take that last step alone.